Get Out Of My Swamp!!! (Random Book)

Dear internet...

     You probably know by now that I'm your typical run of the mill closeted individual...but I'd like to talk about something that's also run of the mill, really. I have no one to talk to. I've been at home with my family for the past few days without talking to anyone who really, truly knows me, and I think I'll go mad if I don't tell someone about how I'm feeling.

     I want to run away. Original, I know. It's something I've been trying to avoid thinking about for a while, since I'd been thinking of it last year as well and my mum had found out. Honestly though, between the two of us, dear Reader, my situation (and probably my mental state, and definitely my emotional state) have only gotten worse since then. I've learned a lot about my self since last year, when my mum went all crazy because she thought I was pan. I know who I am but I feel like such a low being, since my mother views my community as being so low and sinful and whatever else, and I've gotten to the point where I'm questioning if this reality is reality, if I'm really me or if I just think I am...

     I want to run away. A close friend of mine did so recently. Their parents found them, and they went home that same day, but...they did it. And it's only heightened my longing to do it. To be free. To become Dobby. A free elf. (Also, why does the elf emoji on apple products look like Lucius Malfoy?) I want to be a free elf. But will it happen? Probably not. I have nowhere to go, unlike my dear friend. I have no one to run to. No one to save me, free me. But no one to stay for, either. But when I think about it, I feel so selfish for wanting to run away. I shouldn't. My parents would worry (well, maybe not as much if I leave a note. They'd be more angry than worried.). My friends might worry, I'm not sure; I don't have many friends to worry for me anyway.

     I'm not sure I can take another three years of this. I'm not sure I can take another year of this. I don't want to take another day of this, but I know I can. It's what I do. I try to make it one day at a time, but it's so hard to do. I cry with the emotional pain. Shark Week (that heinous week of each month that we AFABs despise so much) makes me cry because the physical pain mixes with the emotional and mental pain and it keeps becoming harder to bottle it up. It's getting harder to hide the fact that I'm hurting. Yet, I keep trying. And everyone sees right through my awful mask. That's what you get when you get your mask at the 99 cent store.

                                                                                                       Love, Lars